


I'm Bound to Walk Away These Blues

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Gen, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-05-03
Updated: 1999-05-03
Packaged: 2018-11-11 05:14:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11141721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Fraser goes on a walkabout, or at least tries to.





	I'm Bound to Walk Away These Blues

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

I'm Bound to Walk Away These Blues

## I'm Bound to Walk Away These Blues 

by Sharon Jacobs  
 **Rating: PG**  
Summary: Fraser goes walkabout, or at least tries to.  
_New Ray Warning_  
Diclaimer: Due South and all it's lovely characters belong to Alliance.  
I'm just borrowing them, so don't sue, okay? All I have is cats anyway,  
so you wouldn't get anything.  
****  
Fraser slung his backback over his shoulder and turned around for one  
last look at the Canadian Consulate. Turnbull was standing motionless  
on guard duty while small children dripped ice cream on his shoes. From  
inside the soft, lilting voice of Inspecter Thatcher drifted into the  
evening air as she disembowled the pizza delivery man for forgetting  
the  
all important pineapple on her large thick-crust canadian bacon.  
Fraser  
smiled to himself, motioned for Dief to follow and set off  
to wherever  
his feet would take him.  
  
****  
Stanley Raymond Kowalski was not a patient man, a fact that his ex-wife  
had always complained about whenever they fought, along with his sloppy  
appearance, short attention span, hair, and his complete inability to  
put the toilet seat down after each use. At 7:30 on a Saturday morning,  
Ray was not only impatient but in a downright crappy mood.  
  
Pounding forcefully on the door to the consulate, he shouted, "Hey  
Fraser, wake the hell up! It's me, Ray." Getting no response, he  
resorted to kicking the door in frustration.  
  
"Stop it, Detective Vecchio! When you kick that door, you are  
essentially kicking Canada,"  
  
Ray turned and looked into Turnbull's angry and slightly vacant eyes,  
and wondered, not for the first time, how he had ever been accepted in  
the mounties to begin with. "Look Turnbull, Fraser was supposed  
to meet  
me here 30 minutes ago so I could drive him to Springfield  
for some  
moose convention or something. Now, I'm here waiting and  
he won't even  
open the door. "  
  
"Ah yes, the symposium on native Canadian wildlife. Constable Fraser  
has  
been talking of nothing else for the last week. I wish that I  
could've  
attended it, but I have duties," Turnbull said, pushing  
past Ray and  
unlocking the door.  
"Fraser isn't here. He requested two weeks vacation and left last  
night."  
  
"What! Just like that, without calling or anything? Where'd he go?"  
  
"Oh, I have no idea. I'm afraid Constable Fraser doesn't confide  
in me,  
or you either so it would appear." Turnbull smiled smugly.  
  
Ray felt a cold shiver run down his spine, but that was from Turnbull's  
smile. He muttered," Freak." and stalked away. Fraser had left  
with no  
warning, no doubt on one of the strange adventures that only  
he could  
get himself entangled in, which always drove Ray crazy,  
and worst or all  
he hadn't even bothered to invite him to tag along.  
Ray slammed the car  
door, glanced at his unshaven reflection in the  
reiew mirror and knew,  
just knew that if he were the real Ray Vecchio  
that this would never  
have happened.  
  
****  
  
Fraser sat by the side of the road, eating an apple that he had  
purchased  
from a roadside vendor a mile back. Diefenbaker routed  
through the  
brush, enjoying the scent of mother nature after all time  
spent  
in the city.  
  
Staring up at the blue sky, he tied to block out all the thoughts and  
emotions that were cluttering up his mind. He concentrated on the fluffy  
white clouds that were drifting by. One looked like a cat, it's back  
bowed up ready to pounce, another like a castle from a fairy tale.  
And then there was one that looked like Ray. not Stanley-Ray who was  
all  
arms, legs and sharp angles, but Ray-Ray who was smooth, polished,  
in  
his own way, and full of attitude. He snorted, and told himself  
not to  
be silly; how could a cloud have attitude?  
  
Fraser stretched out his legs and stood up. "Come on Dief,"  
he said.  
"Time to get moving."  
  
****  
Francesca checked her makeup in the car mirror, collected the apple pie  
that her mother had baked and made her way to the consulate, wobbling  
slightly on four inch heels. Reaching the door, she stopped took a deep  
breath and raised her hand to knock. The door opened and Turnbull  
regarded her in surprise.  
  
"May I help you, miss?"  
  
"Oh, uh, I'm looking for Fraser. Is he around?"  
  
"No ma'am. Constable Fraser left last night on a two week vacation."  
  
"What?" Francesca shrieked. "He left without telling me,  
I mean without  
telling anyone. Where did he go? You know, in case  
of an emergency?"  
  
"I don't know, ma'am. Constable Fraser doesn't tell me his plans,  
but  
I'll be happy to help you in anyway that I can," Turnbull  
smiled in what  
he seriously thought was a charming way. "Is  
that an apple pie?" He  
reached out for the tempting dish. Francesca  
jerked it away and gave him  
the patented Vecchio death-look (tm).  
  
"Are you really a mountie?" She said contemptuously, and stormed  
back to  
her car.  
Sitting behind the wheel, fuming, she wondered if Thatcher, the Ice  
Queen, had also mysteriouly, vanished on _vacation_ .  
  
****  
  
Ray lay on his couch watching tv, stuffing his face with junk food, and  
coming to the conclusion that if the others would kill Gilligan they  
wold get off that island in no time. This revelation was interupted by  
Francesca's sweet voice bellowing, "Open the door, _brother_ dearest.  
I  
need to talk to you."  
  
"I'm not home. At the sound of the beep leave a message and I'll  
get  
back to you later. Beep." Ray said before shoving another  
twinkie into  
his mouth.  
  
"This is important. It's about Fraser."  
  
Grumbling, he bushed the candy wrappers, and cookie crumbs off himself,  
and staggered to the door. "What about him?"  
  
"And how are you today, Frannie? My don't you look nice. Would you  
like  
to come in and have a cup of coffee? Where were you raised,  
in a barn?"  
She squeezed past him, and looked around in disapproval  
at his dishevled  
apartment. "Actually, this apartment looks  
like a barn."  
  
"Oh, you sure got me good. I'm reeling from the force or your razor  
sharp wit," Ray said, squashing a roach. "What do you want?  
Besides  
Fraser, that is."  
  
"Fraser is gone. Supposedly on vacation, but what if it's something  
else. What if he's in trouble? He could be lying in a ditch somewhere  
covered in blood." She grabbed Ray's shirt. "We've got to find  
him,  
Ray."  
  
"Take it easy, Frannie. This is Fraser we're talking about. You  
could  
drop him in the middle of the antartic with nothing but a toothbrush,  
and he'd be fine. In fact, that would probably be his idea of the pefect  
vacation."  
  
Francesca sniffed loudly and forced tears into her eyes. "No Ray.  
I know  
something is wrong. I can feel it in my bones. We Vecchio's  
have a sixth  
sense about these things. We've got to track him down  
before it's too  
late."  
  
Ray shifted uncertainly. "It was kind of weird of him to take off  
like  
that without letting anyone know. We had plans for today. It's  
almost  
rude of him not to tell me that he was leaving and Fraser  
is never  
rude."  
  
"Never," Francesca agreed wholeheartedly.  
  
  
Ray picked up his jacket, "What are you waiting for. Fraser could  
be  
lying in a ditch somewhere covered in blood."  
  
Francesca followed him out the door smiling. Whatever unholy plans  
Thatcher had for Fraser were about to be ruined.  
  
****  
Fraser lay in a ditch, covered in blood. Well, not completely covered,  
just his knee. The teenagers who had tried to run him down had sped  
off  
laughing and spewing profanity, while he recovered his senses.  
Dief  
sniffed him to make sure that he was all right and licked his  
face  
encouragingly.  
  
"Do you plan to lay there all day?," the ghost of his father  
said  
irritably. "That's hardly a scratch, son. You're wasting  
good sunlight.  
You'll never get where you're going wallowing around  
like this."  
  
"I'm not going anywhere, Dad," Fraser answered not opening  
his eyes.  
  
"You certainly aren't. Why, I remember the time I was mauled by  
a bear,  
got up, walked 40 miles in a blinding snow storm, just to  
make it to  
Buck Frobisher's birthday party."  
  
Fraser regarded the annoying spirit suspiciously and said, "You  
made  
that up."  
  
Fraser, sr. straightened up indignantly, "You wound me son."  
  
"I'd like too."  
  
"Well, pardon me for trying to help you out in your time of need.  
I  
thought that since you were starting out on an adventure that you  
would  
appreciate the wisdom of you father, but I guess I was wrong."  
  
Fraser sat up, wincing. He examined his knee, carefully pulling back  
the  
ripped denim from the injury. "I'm not on an adventure.  
I had the urge  
to get away from it all. I don't even know where I'm  
going."  
  
"That doesn't look to bad. I've certainly seen worse."  
  
Fraser dug into his backpack for antiseptic to clean the wound. "Dad,  
have you ever reached the point where nothing makes any sense anymore?  
You don't know why you're where you are, or what you're going supposed  
to do next?"  
  
"Nonsense. You go where you're sent.You have duties to perform.  
That's  
you're purpose."  
  
Fraser grimaced. "You're not being much help, Dad."  
  
The older mountie smiled. "Every man must find his own path."  
  
****  
He was a damn good looking man, Matilda thought as she eyed her  
passenger  
hungrily. She had picked him up a few miles back. His knee was  
banged  
up pretty bad where some teenagers had tried to run over him.  
Damn  
teenagers. He didn't have much to say, this one. A brief  
explanation  
of his situation and a thank you kindly were all he'd had to  
say  
since she'd pulled her 18-wheeler up beside him. That was okay;  
talking  
wasn't what she had in mind. It got mighty lonely haulng produce  
across these United States.  
  
Her thoughts were interupted by the slight growl of the dog (wolf?) that  
had firmly planted himself between the two of them in the truck's cab.  
"Nice dog," Matilda said nervously.  
  
"Behave yourself," Fraser scolded. "You'll have to excuse  
him, ma'am.  
Diefenbaker's had a very trying day."  
  
Matilda leered sympathetically at him. "Oh, that's okay. I know  
how  
dog's can be protective of their masters. I used to have a dog  
myself,  
before I accidentily backed the rig over him in Kansas City  
a couple of  
years ago. He was a fine mutt; good company." She  
gazed into the  
slightly horrified sky blue eyes of her passenger  
and decided it was  
time to get down to business. "There's a  
rest stop just up ahead. I  
figure we can pull over for a bit and  
relax."  
  
"Of course. I imagine it's quite tiring driving all day." Fraser  
answered understandingly.  
  
Matilda parked the big rig in the deserted rest stop. "Why don't  
you  
let Rover out to answer nature's call while we're here."  
She suggested,  
anxious to get the hostile animal out of her way.  
  
"An excellent idea," Fraser agreed, opening the passenger side  
door.  
"Out you go Diefenbaker." Dief looked at Matilda  
and whined. Fraser  
frowned at the recalcitrant wolf and said,  
"What's the matter with you?" Dief again looked at the trucker,  
whined  
and nudged Fraser. "That's it," Fraser was exasperated  
by now, "Go on!  
I won't have you complaining later that you  
have to go." He gave Dief a  
push to emphasis his words. The  
wolf regarded his friend, and blowing is  
breath out in disgust, left  
Fraser to meet his fate.  
  
"Well now," Matilda said, turning sideways to get a better  
view of  
Fraser. "We're alone."  
  
"Ah, yes."  
  
"You're a fine looking man. I bet you hear that alot." Her  
eyes roamed  
his body, stopping to rest just below his belt buckle.  
  
Fraser gulped nervously, and cursed himself for not listening to Dief's  
instincts "Oh dear."  
  
"You're in trouble now, son," Fraser, Sr. poked his head in  
through the  
window. "She's got 30 pounds on you and you've lost  
blood. I say go for  
your knife before it's too late."  
  
"Don't be ridiculous!," Fraser whispered to the ghost.  
  
"What did you say?" Matilda said, her eyes still glued to Fraser's  
nether regions.  
  
"Um, I think I should go find Dief. He's unfamiliar with this area.  
He  
might get lost, or hurt. ." His voice trailed off as he made  
a desperate  
grab for the door handle.  
  
Matilda shoved him back against the seat, "Forget about the mutt,  
we  
got more important things to think about." She seized his  
flannel shirt  
and yanked it open, sending buttons flying everywhere.  
  
"Wait, wait! I'm not that kind of man,' he pleaded holding his hand  
in  
front of his face to fend off her kisses.  
  
Matilda stopped her attack. "What do you mean you're not that kind  
of a  
man? Are you gay or something?"  
  
"That's a rather personal question to ask someone you've just met,  
don't  
you think?" Fraser answered, starting to get annoyed.  
  
"You're gay all right. I should have guessed; you're too pretty  
to be  
straight. Well, haul your butt out. I've got a schedule to  
keep." She  
reached across him and opened the door.  
  
Greatly relieved, Fraser scrambled down out of the truck as quickly as  
possible with his injured knee. As Matilda drove off, Dief padded up  
and sat down beside the mountie. "You don't have to look so smug.  
It's  
unbecoming." Fraser said irritably.  
  
"You dodged a bullet there, son. Quck thinking telling her you  
were  
gay."  
  
Fraser rubbed his face tiredly. "I didn't tell her I was gay. She  
just  
assumed I was."  
  
"But you didn't set her straight, so it's the same thing."  
  
"Why are we having this conversation? We're standing here in the  
middle  
of Ohio, surrounded by murderous, sex crazed Americans,"  
  
Fraser Sr. looked at his son sadly. "I was just trying to make small  
talk. There's no need to get all riled up."  
  
****  
Ray Kowalski was basking in the glow of a mile-high plate of spaghetti.  
Mrs. Vecchio was hovering over him clucking like a mother hen. "You're  
so thin, Stanley. You should find some nice girl to take care of you  
and  
settle down. Don't you agree Francesca?" Mrs Vecchio glared  
at her  
daughter pointedly.  
  
"Yeah, sure. Come on Ray, we're wasting time. we should be out looking  
for Fraser." Francesca said. She regretted making Ray bring her  
home so  
she could change clothes.  
  
"Fraser, Fraser, Fraser, that's all you talk about!  
This boy doesn't leave until he's had a decent meal. What do people  
think when they see him? I'll tell you what they think; that his mama  
doesn't know how to take care of him, that's what they think. Have some  
garlic bread, Stanley."  
  
"Thanks, Mrs Vecchio,"  
  
"Call me Mama."  
  
"Mama," Ray chewed happily, not a care in the world.  
  
Francesca took deep calming breaths and said, "It doesn't matter  
what  
peope think, Ma. This is not your son."  
  
Mrs Vecchio pinched his cheek, and anwered with a smile. "Who knows  
what  
the future will bring, eh Francesca?"  
  
"I'm in hell!" Francesca moaned.  
  
Ray stopped mid-chew. "Don't swear at the table. Show some respect  
for  
Mama."  
  
  
Mrs. Vecchio threw her arms around him and said,"You're such a good  
boy."  
  
****  
Fraser's knee ached unbearably. He had spent the last few hours  
trudging miserably along the highway, politely refusing the offers of  
rides from passing motorists. It would be dark soon.  
He knew he would have to stop and make camp. Usually the prospect of  
a  
night spent under the stars would have been appealing, but now  
he only  
felt cold, lonely, and wretched.  
Too much time in the city, he told himself firmly.  
  
  
A car slowed down and stopped beside him. The window rolled down and  
a  
dark haired man regarded him questioningly. "Do you need a  
lift?" he  
asked in a pleasant british accent.  
  
Fraser hesitated, but it was the accent that convinced him. With a few  
notable exceptions, he had always found the british to be quite  
civilized.  
"Yes, thank you kindly." he answered limping to the car.  
  
Dief jumped in before him, and sniffed the driver. Satisfied that he  
wasn't a mass murderer, or sex fiend, he barked his approval to Fraser.  
  
"Is this a wolf?" the driver asked.  
  
"Yes he is."  
  
"Ah." He held out his hand. "Benjamin Adams."  
  
Fraser took it in a firm handshake. "Constable Benton Fraser, RCMP."  
  
"RCMP? Aren't you a bit lost?"  
  
Fraser answered grimly, "I'm beginning to think so."  
  
****  
Fraser stared out the window at the darkening sky. An overwhelming  
sense of depression had settled on him, and he couldn't see a way past  
it. He hadn't said much to Adams, the friendly brit who had give him  
a  
ride. Normally, Fraser could talk for hours on any subject, a trait  
that  
annoyed both Rays no end, but not tonight.  
  
Adams regarded the mountie out of the corner of his eye. "Come on,  
tell  
me what her name is," he said smiling slightly.  
  
"I beg your pardon?" Fraser answered, confused.  
  
"I've seen that expression before; you've got a broken heart. "  
  
"I'm afraid you're mistaken. "  
  
"So your not going to tell me her name. Okay, but it might help  
to talk  
about it," Adams persisted.  
  
Fraser grimaced. All he wanted to do was get to the next town, rent a  
room, and take a nice hot bath. This whole adventure was not working  
out at all. And now, this stranger was insisting on prying into his  
personal business. It was almost enough to make Fraser say something  
rude.  
  
Taking a deep calmng breath, Fraser responded, "There is no name  
to  
tell. I don't have a girlfriend. I don't know anyone that I want  
to have  
as a girlfriend. There isn't anyone even interested in being  
my  
girlfriend. Well, there's Francesca, but she's the sister of my  
best  
friend, so that's not even remotely possible. There's Inspecter  
Thatcher. She's my superior officer, which would make anything of a  
romantic nature completely improper. I don't see much of Elaine since  
she graduated from the academy. I imagine she's met some nice young man  
on the force and forgotten all about me.." he trailed off, distracted  
by Adams laughter.  
  
"What you basically are saying is that you are surrounded by women  
who  
are attracted to you, but you've found reasons not to pursue  
any of  
them?"  
  
"That's not at all what I'm saying."  
  
"Ahh," Adams said in sudden realization. "What you're  
saying is that you  
don't lke women."  
  
"No!" Fraser protested hastily. "and I do wish people  
would quit  
suggesting that. I do like women very much. I find them  
rather  
frightening, but that's beside the point. Anyway, this has  
nothing to  
do with why I'm out roaming the countryside, being run  
over by juvenile  
delinquits and fondled by over-sexed truck drivers."  
That remark caused  
Adams eyebrows to shoot up . Fraser held up his  
hands to forstall any  
questions. "That's a long story, that  
I'd rather not get into right  
now."  
  
****  
"Buy a vowel, you idiot," Ray shouted at the television set.  
  
Francesca sighed in dispair. Any hopes of tracking down Fraser tonight  
had been dashed  
by her mother's decision to adopt Kowalski into the family. Of course,  
Frannie knew that she was only doing it because she missed her own Ray  
so much, but still it was irritating.  
  
Kowalski really was pathetic, she decided, watching the two of them on  
the couch, debating puzzle-solving tactics. He was skinnier than Kate  
Moss, and he looked like he had slept in those clothes. And his hair!  
If  
she didn't know better, she could have sworn that someone had  
attacked  
it with a weed-wacker. Worst of all , was the way he ate  
up the  
attention that his pretend mother was lavishing on him. He  
was like one  
of the stray dogs that Ray was always bringing home  
when they were kids.  
  
A commercial came on, and Mrs Vecchio excused herself to make fresh  
coffee. As she started to leave, she turned to her daughter and said,  
"Francesca, why don't you sit by Stanley and keep him company."  
  
Ray patted the couch invitingly, and she snarled, "Drop dead!"  
  
"Francesca!" her mother exclaimed in shock, "That's no  
way to treat a  
guest. I thought I taught you better than that."  
  
"Yeah, Francesca," Ray said so smugly that she wanted to belt  
him.  
  
Mrs Vecchio pointed to the spot beside Ray on the couch and gave  
Francesca an end-of-discussion look. Groaning, she sat down beside him,  
making sure there was no actual physical contact.  
  
"See this isn't too bad, now is it?" Ray smiled sweetly.  
  
"You are fungus.'  
  
"Maybe so, but at least I'm here, not off traipsing across the state  
with nothing but a compass and some dried lichen."  
  
She sneered at him. "You're only here for a free meal, and a little  
motherly affection."  
  
"So what? That's still more than you've ever got out of Fraser."  
  
Francesca said nothing, knowing that he was right. The mountie had not  
only never shown the slightest inteest in her, but he seemed to actively  
seek to put as much distance between them as humanly possible. Even in  
Canada, that couldn't be a sign of romantic interest.  
  
"Hey Ma, hurry back. The bonus round is about to start," Ray  
called.  
  
****  
It was midnight, and Fraser was sitting at a booth valiantly attempting  
to eat the blue plate special at Joe's Diner. He was the only customer  
at the greasy establishment. The fry cook leaned against the counter,  
listening to golden oldies, while a bored waitress flipped through a  
copy of vogue. Fraser had parted company with Adams earlier, and now  
all  
he wanted was to finish eating and then rent a room at the Motel  
6 next  
door. The way his luck had gone lately, he should have known  
that wasn't  
going to happen.  
  
Two armed men wearing stockings over their heards burst in. "Everybody  
stay where you are. This is a stick-up!" one of them yelled.  
  
The bored waitress looked up from her magazine in disbelief and said,  
"You've got to be kidding."  
  
"Shut up and open the cash register!" the smaller of the two  
demanded,  
waving his gun around wildly.  
  
Exhausted though he was, Fraser knew it was his duty to intervene.  
Besides, he could smell the clearsil on the would-be robbers. The two  
not professionals.  
  
Diefenbaker looked up at him, awaiting instructions. "Stay put,"  
he told  
the wolf. Rising form the booth, he stepped forward and  
cleared his  
throat. Instantly, the robbers turned and aimed their  
weapons at him.  
"Pardon me," he began. "But I don't  
think you've thought this through  
very well."  
  
"Who the hell are you?" the little one yelled.  
  
"I'm sorry. Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Constable  
Benton Fraser, RCMP. I first came to Chicago on the trail of the killers  
of my father, and for reasons that don't need to be explained at this  
juncture, I remained attached as a liason to the Canadian Consulate."  
  
"He's a cop, Bobby!" the larger one said with fright.  
  
"Shut up! I told you not use my name, you idiot!"  
  
The waitress peered at them thoughtfully. Her eyes widened with  
recognition.  
"Bobby Taggart, is that you? And Skip Hartley! Have you two  
gone crazy? Well, I know one thing; I'm gonna be giving you mothers a  
call in the morning!"  
  
"Oh man! Now we're really gonna get it!," Skip wailed.  
  
Fraser eased forward, his hands held up in front of him. "This has  
gone  
far enough, boys. Give me the guns, and everything will be all  
right."  
  
Bobby levelled the gun at Fraser. "Stop where you are cop. I'm  
not  
going to reform school over this."  
  
"What are we going to do?" Skip asked  
  
"There's only thing we can do. They recognized us, so we'll have  
to get  
rid of them."  
  
****  
  
It was midnight at the Vecchio household, and everyone was asleep,  
except for Francesca and Ray Kowalski who were in Ray Vecchio's bedroom  
pawing through his things.  
  
"Found it!" Frannie cried in delight, and plopped down on the  
bed.  
  
Instantly Ray dropped the copy of Motorweek that he had been reading,  
and joined her. "What?" he asked, leaning in very close for  
a better  
view.  
  
"It's Ray's photo album. I found it a few months ago when I was  
cleaning  
the room." She chose to ignore Kowalski's snort of  
disbelief. Instead,  
she opened the album to reveal page after page  
of pictures of Fraser by  
himself, and with Ray.  
  
Kowalski took the album from her, and flipped through it. "Don't  
you  
think that this is a bit odd?" he asked.  
  
"What do you mean odd?"  
  
"I mean odd that your brother has an entire book dedicated to pictures  
of Fraser. Here he is in his red mountie suit, in jeans, oh look, this  
is one of him in longjohns. I wonder when that was taken?"  
  
Francesca slammed the book, and glared at Kowalski. "They're best  
friends. It's only natural that Ray would have photographs of Fraser."  
  
Kowalski snickered. "I had a best friend once. I had like one picture  
of  
him and me at a cubs game, not a whole album of them, and definetly  
none  
of him in his underwear. C'mon Frannie, you know what the rumours  
are  
at the station."  
  
She shook her head in vigours denial. "No. Fraser would never do  
that."  
  
"And Ray?"  
  
"Oh yeah, he wouldn't do it either." She gave Kowalski a threatening  
look, daring him to disagree with her.  
  
He held up his hand in submission and said, "Okay, okay. You've  
known  
Ray all his life and Fraser for years. I've only known Fraser  
for a few  
months, and I've never even met Ray, so if you say nothing  
is going on,  
then nothing is going on."  
  
"_Nothing_ is going on." she said firmly.  
  
"You're right. It's just that I've been wondering about Fraser because  
of some of things he's said and done," Ray looked at the ceiling  
innocently.  
  
"What things?" Francesca asked warily.  
  
"Just little things. And the fact that he kissed me."  
  
"WHAT?!" Francesca screeched in horror.  
  
"It was when we were on that freighter, you know that case with  
the  
pirates and the gold.  
Well, the freighter was sinking and we were trying to find our way out.  
We had to swim through part of the freighter that was underwater, and  
there was a point when I wasn't able to hold my breath any longer, and  
Fraser blew into my mouth. He called it buddy-breathing. I suppose it's  
another one of his weird mountie things."  
  
Francesca sighed in relief. "It wasn't a kiss then. He was saving  
your  
life."  
  
Ray shrugged. "I guess so. He was just blowing air into my lungs.  
'Course, I can't figure out why he had to stick his tongue in my mouth  
to do that, but then what do I know?"  
  
Francesca's mouth worked, but no sounds came out. Her whole world  
cumbled around her. Fraser had kissed Kowalski. He had spent every  
spare moment of his time with her brother. Fraser was gay and everybody  
had figured it out but her. She was drawn back to reality by the sound  
of Kowalski's laughter.  
  
"You should see your face," he managed to get out. " I  
was making it up!  
Not about the buddy-breathing, just the tongue  
part."  
  
It took a moment for her to comprehend what he was saying. Her face  
flushed bright red, and through gritted teeth, she said, "You son  
of a  
bitch."  
  
"Take it easy, Frannie. I was only joking." Ray said apologetically.  
  
She shoved him off the bed. "That's not funny. Get out! "   
As Kowalski  
headed for the door, she threw the photo album at him.  
It struck him  
right between the shoulder blades with a satisfying  
smack.  
  
"Hey," he yelped angrily, and turned around to face her. "You  
know what  
Francesca, I don't know whether Fraser is gay or not. He's  
too wierd to  
figure out. He could be gay, straight, bi or a virgin  
for all I know. In  
fact, I think I'll go with virgin. I'm sure it's  
written somewhere in  
the mountie code about waiting until he's married  
to have sex. But  
there's one thing that I do know; whatever Fraser  
is, he's not  
interested in you."  
  
"Get out," Frannie whispered, her fists clenched. He left,  
slamming the  
door behind him. She listened to the sound of him stomping  
down the  
stairs and out the front door. She walked over to where  
the photo album  
lay on the floor. She opened it to a picture of of  
Fraser and Ray  
standing in front of Wrigley Field. Both were smiling,  
and Ray had his  
arm around Fraser's shoulder. Fraser looked happier  
than she had seem  
him look in months; ever since Ray left to go undercover.  
  
"I won't believe it. I won't," she said unconvincingly.  
  
*****  
  
The problem was that Fraser didn't really believe two teenage boys  
would be capable of murdering three people in cold blood, just to  
prevent being identified. If either of the Rays who had become  
inextricably  
tangled up in his life, had been there, they would have  
pointed  
out that it's a sad world we live in, and that there are people  
who  
would kill you in a heartbeat for change to ride the bus.  
Unfortunately,  
one Ray was under deep cover with the mob in Vegas, and  
the other  
was sitting on the curb in front of the Vecchio house feeling  
like  
a Grade A, number one jerk. So that left Fraser alone to handle the  
problem by himself.  
  
Bobby pointed the gun at the waitress's chest.  
"Congratulations, you get to be first," he said.  
  
"Wait," Fraser pleaded. "You don't want to do this."  
  
"Actually, I do," Bobby answered. "I've always want to  
know what it  
would feel like to kill someone, and now I guess I'll  
find out."  
  
Fraser began to move forward, very slowly. "Listen son, think about  
what  
you're doing. You still have a chance to get out of this. If  
you pull  
that trigger, you're life is over."  
  
Bobby hesitated. "You sound like my dad." The gun lowered  
slightly. "I  
hate my dad." He swung the gun up, and fired.  
  
A blinding hot pain pierced Fraser's right side. Somwhere in Vegas, a  
certain mobster awoke from his restless sleep overcome be an  
unexplainable sense of panic. On a curb in Chicago, a lonely cop felt  
a  
cold chill run down his spine.  
  
"Shit, Bobby! You shot him!" Skip dropped his gun and ran  
out the  
front door.  
  
"Come back here you coward!," Bobby yelled after his friend.  
He looked  
at Fraser nervously.  
"Shouldn't you be dead?"  
  
"I'm happy to say, I don't think you hit any vital organs. I am,  
however, losing a lot of blood." Wincing, Fraser applied pressure  
to the  
wound to stop the flow of blood. His vision was beginning  
to blur and he  
knew that he was in danger of losing conciousness.  
Diefenbaker's growling brought him back to reality.  
  
"I'll kill that dog! I swear I will!" Bobby screamed.  
  
"Yes, I expect you would. Stay Dief," Fraser ordered. In the  
back of his  
mind voices whispered,"Take him down, Benny. Take  
him down before he  
takes you down." "Make your move, Fraser.  
Break the little punk's neck."  
Seeming to originate from somewhere  
outside of his body, a tidal wave  
of anger washed over him. With  
a roar of fury, and using the last of his  
strength, Fraser hurled  
himself at the boy.  
  
They crashed on a table and rolled onto the floor. Fraser pinned Bobby  
to the floor, and wrapped his hands around his neck. "You little  
bastard. All I wanted to do was get away from everyone for a few days,  
and think about what I'm going to do with the rest of my life. That's  
all. Why is that so much to ask?"  
  
"Urggh!" Bobby sputtered.  
  
"Hey Mountie, ease up! You''re choking him, the waitress said.  
  
Fraser looked at his hands and at the boy's face, which was turning  
blue. "Oh dear!" he said then collapsed on top of him.  
  
*****  
  
It was 4 a.m., and Ray Kowalski was lying in bed unable to sleep. It  
had been hours since he had got the sick feeling that something had  
happened to Fraser. Ray was not especially psychic; in fact, he tended  
to mock such things, so he he had tried to shake off the feeling as just  
nerves.  
  
The phone rang, and he grabbed it quickly. "Fraser?"  
  
'Why yes, Ray. How did you know it was me?" Fraser's voice sounded  
disturbingly weak.  
  
"Who else would call me at 4 o'clock in the morning?" Ray lied.  
"You  
don't sound too good. is something wrong?"  
  
"No, no. I'm fine. Well actually, I have been shot, but it's nothing  
to  
worry about."  
  
"What?! What happend? Where are you?" Ray shrieked, throwing  
the covers  
off, and reaching for his pants.  
  
"There's no need to get upset, Ray. I was shot while attempting  
to stop  
a robbery. The bullet passed through me, doing only minor  
damage.  
I should be released from hospital in a few days. I was wondering  
if you  
could keep Diefenbaker until then. It seems the hospital has  
a policy  
against allowing wolves in patients rooms. Rather silly  
if you ask me."  
  
"Okay, I'll be right over," Ray said and slammed the phone  
down. A few  
seconds later it rang again. Sheepishly, he picked it  
up. "Uh, hi  
Fraser. What hospital are you in?"  
  
****  
Guilt over the way he had tormented Francesca earlier, had made Ray  
swing by the Vecchio home and tell her what had happened As he had  
expected, she insisted on going with him, which had meant several hours  
in a car with a semi-hysterical Frannie. By the time they reached their  
destination, it was all he could do to keep from throwing himself on  
the  
first nurse he saw and begging for tranqulizers.  
  
Frannie charged the front desk. "Where is he? The Mountie, Benton  
Fraser? He was shot," she demanded.  
  
The nurse looked at her stonily and said, "I'm afraid it's not visiting  
hours. You'll have to come back later."  
  
Ray flashed his badge. "Look Nurse Ratchet, we need to see him  
now. Oh  
yeah, where's his wolf?"  
  
"In the room with him. We weren't able to. . . persuade it to leave  
his  
side. He's in room 316."  
  
Frannie ran off in search of Fraser's room with Ray desperately trying  
to keep up. "Wait up, Frannie. Damn, how can you move so fast in  
those  
heels?"  
  
She skidded to a halt in front of room 316. Breathing hard, Ray caught  
up to her. Carefully, she pushed open the door. Fraser lay on the bed  
his eyes closed, looking pale and helpless. Diefenbaker stood guard  
at  
the foot of the bed.  
  
As Ray and Frannie entered the room, Dief whimpered and gave them an  
accusing glare.  
"Yeah, I know," Ray said. "We should have been there to  
protect him."  
  
Fraser opened his eyes and smiled. "Ray and Francesca. It's very  
nice of  
you to come."  
  
Surprisingly composed, Frannie walked over to him and took his hand in  
hers. "Are you all right Fraser? We've been worried sick."  
  
"I'm sorry to have worried you. It was my own fault, of course.  
I  
underestimated how violent the would-be robber was. I should have  
known  
better," Fraser said guiltily.  
  
"Uh, Fraser, you were the one shot," Ray reminded him.  
  
"None of that matter now," Frannie interjected. "The only  
thing that you  
need to worry about it getting better. Is there anything  
I can get for  
you? Magazines, toothbrush, Inuit medicine man?"  
  
"Well, I could do with a cup of hot tea, but I don't think the nurses  
would approve."  
  
"No problem. I'll run down to the cafeteria and get you some,"  
she said  
squeezing his hand.  
  
"I wouldn't want to break any rules, " Fraser began.  
  
"Don't worry. I'll talk to the nurses. I'm very good with people,"  
she  
gave Ray a quelling look before leaving.  
  
After she had left, Ray pulled up a chair alongside Fraser's bed and  
sat  
down. "Well?" he said.  
  
"Well what, Ray?" Fraser said evasively.  
  
"Well what the hell were you thinking going off like that? You can't  
just wander off. This isn't Canada. People don't have to be nice to each  
other here. You could have been killed."  
  
"I'm truly sorry Ray," Fraser said shamefaced.  
"I didn't mean to cause any. . ."  
  
"Stop apologizing," Ray interupted. "You didn't do anything  
wrong."  
  
"But you said. . ."  
  
"Forget what I said! Why would you listen to what I say; what do  
I  
know?" Ray threw up his hands in exasperation. "Listen  
Fraser, all I  
want to know is, what made you go off like that?"  
  
Fraser hesitated, then reached under his pillow and removed a postcard.  
He handed it to Ray.  
On the front was a picture of several half-naked showgirls. After  
waiting several minutes, Fraser said, "The other side Ray."  
  
"Oh yeah," Ray grinned and flipped the card over.  
  
It read: "Hey Benny. I wanted to let you know that everything's  
fine  
with me. Hope to come home soon.  
RIV  
PS Met a girl. It could be the real thing."  
  
"It's from Vecchio, Right?" Ray questioned and Fraser nodded.  
"What's  
the problem? He sounds okay."  
  
"It's the part about meeting the girl," Fraser said quietly.  
  
"Oh, uh, okay, so you're upset that Vecchio's met a girl. Well,  
uh,  
there's nothing wrong with that . I mean, you know, uh, it's  
the '90's  
and everything," Ray stammered, while saying a silent  
prayer of  
gratitude that Frannie wasn't in the room.  
  
Fraser shot him a confused look, then understanding lit his face and  
he  
groaned in dismay. "Not you too! I'm not interested in Ray  
in a.. in a.  
." he trailed off.  
  
"Okay, okay Fraser. If you can't say it, I guess you can't do it.  
So if  
you're not jealous over this girl, what's the problem then?"  
  
Fraser sighed, "I'm all alone. My parents are gone, my best friend  
is  
undercover in another city, and he's found someone he might marry,  
and  
the city smells."  
  
"It what?"  
  
"It smells Ray. Garbage, pollution, people. I miss the smell of  
pine,  
and snow," Fraser said wistfully.  
  
"We have plenty of snow," Ray answered defensively.  
  
"It's brown Ray. Snow isn't supposed to be brown. I only wanted  
to get  
away for a few days and think about what I'm going to do with  
my life.  
Then, of course, this happend."  
  
They were silent for a few moments. Finally Ray asked, "What are  
you  
going to do with your life?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"Are you going back to Canada?"  
  
"I don't know, perhaps. I have to wait for Ray to get back from  
his  
mission first. I couldn't do anything to put him at risk."  
  
Kowalski stared at his feet, unwillng to look at Fraser. "I guess  
I  
understand. A guy gets homesick; he should go home."  
  
"That does seem reasonable . You would, of course, always be welcome  
to  
visit me."  
  
Ray laughed, "Oh yeah, I can see me mushing through the snow with  
my  
faithful team of huskies."  
  
Fraser looked at him thoughtfully. "Who knows Ray; you might like  
it.  
Many people from the city have found themselves captivated by  
the  
primitive beauty of the wild."  
  
"Get serious Fraser. I'm not the woodsy type.  
Anyway, we don't have to worry about it now. It'll probably be months  
before Vecchio gets back. Hey, maybe you'll meet a girl of your own,  
and  
decided to stay."  
  
"Perhaps," Fraser agreed without much enthusiasm.  
  
Francesca bounced in and handed Fraser a paper cup. "Here you go.  
I  
didn't know what you wanted in it, so I brought everything. Sugar,  
cream, lemon, honey. Just name it."  
  
"Nothing, thank you," he took a sip. "Ah, that hits the  
spot. I feel  
much better already."  
  
Frannie reached over and fluffed his pillow. "I'm going to take  
such  
good care of you Fraser. I don't plan to leave your side until  
you are  
100% again."  
  
"Please Francesca, don't put yourself out," he said dismayed.  
  
"Oh, I don't mind. I want to take care of you," she purred.  
  
"Hey Fraser, this could be the real thing," Ray snickered.  
  
"Shut up, Ray," Fraser warned.  
  
"Frannie how do you feel about dogsleds and outdoor plumbing?"  
  
"RAY!!"  
  
The End  
  
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